


Political Warfare

by reserve



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Politics, benarmie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:13:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9179068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/pseuds/reserve
Summary: Are you a spy or a whore?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started this a few months ago. Obviously I'm still working out some feelings with regard to the last US election, but also I like writing porn, so I appreciate you bearing with me. Thanks to [imochan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/imochan/pseuds/imochan) for the encouragement and friendship. I fucken love benarmie.

* * *

Hux checked the pin tucked into his lapel for the fifthteenth time.

He needed to stop worrying at it. He was smart enough to know that he would attract unwanted attention if he kept touching exactly what was supposed to there, but _he_ wasn’t supposed to be there, and the little metal pin, with its New Republic symbol, felt heavy against his chest. And criminal.

“You’ll blend right in. You’re so cleancut no one will think to look twice,” were the words his commanding officer had favored him with after he’d been given this mission.

Armitage Hux was not the sort of soldier who made his displeasure known when he disagreed with orders, but something must have shown on his face, because Captain Tibbet stopped him with a hand on his shoulder after their briefing.

“All you need to do is remain hidden in plain sight. You’re a very good aide to Major Billig.” A nod to his current assignment, which he loathed. “This will be like second nature for you. And—” Tibbet’s hand patted his back companionably. “It’s for the good of the Order.”

Hux had nodded.

He touched his lapel again.

He was backstage at this charade of a political rally with the express purpose of benign espionage. They were called trackers. Agents of modern political warfare, trackers worked day and night, showing up in every corner of the galaxy, relentlessly shadowing rival candidates' every word and gesture with holo cameras, and waiting for that one off-message moment. Hux’s candidate was particularly high-profile, and of interest to the Order if only because her opponent—a monstrous Hutt of a man, whom Hux actually despised—had been endorsed by high command despite the FO having very little sphere of influence in the Core worlds.

But Hux knew—Senator Leia Organa was of interest to just about anyone who paid attention. And the Senator’s campaign for the Chancellery was going better than many had expected. Not that you could tell from the goings-on around him. Organa’s people—one of whom he was pretending to be—were _scrambling_ in advance of her arrival at the indoor arena. A droid was hastily adjusting the lights that illuminated the podium, and three young women were desperately attempting to hang bunting in New Republic colors around the small stage. Outside the arena, Hux could see that the crowd was growing. He itched to help out; he was terrible at sitting idly by.

Someone placed a glass of water in the podium back and Hux reassessed the room and the people waiting in line. He was surprised. The senator wasn’t exactly known her for stunning oratory. She governed; she didn’t rouse the masses. Not like, and he allowed himself a hint of smugness, not like _he_ would someday. No, the former general-come-politician wasn’t suited for the stage nearly so well as she was suited for the senate floor, or the warroom. Hux had assumed, like many others, that Organa’s failure to entrance the people would ultimately cause her to lose her bid, but as the crowd steadily grew—as all of her crowds steadily grew—he was forced to reconsider his opinion. Organa had neither the charm nor the swagger of her estranged husband, but she certainly had _something_.

A massive orange and gold banner—FORWARD TOGETHER—was unfurled behind the stage and Hux rolled his eyes. He couldn’t stand artifice. If he ever found himself in a position of power like the senator, he would forgo anything so foolish as a public consensus regarding his rule. What did the people really know about who should govern them? Hux’s hand found his pin again and he pressed at it self-consciously. It was hard won. He was still rather sore after letting one of the offworld guardsman take him back to a budget hotel the night prior. He may have had some regrets, but that encounter allowed him to quietly slip backstage now, where he could watch the proceedings through the pipe and drape, and have a good view of Organa when she arrived.

He settled in, taking in the scene avidly. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Hux startled. “I have a pin,” he said, turning. “Of course I am.”

Behind him stood a funny looking young man dressed up like an old-timey Jedi Knight. While the boy eyed him up and down, Hux wondered if he was part of the opening program, a player in some acting troupe brought on to remind attendees of the good old days.

“I’m not—” the young man huffed.

“What?”

“You’re not. Supposed. To be here,” he said again.

Hux raised his chin in what he hoped was a disdainful and imperious fashion. He curled his lip, and said in the voice he reserved for weaker cadets, “how do you know?”

The boy huffed again, and glanced behind himself, toward the windows that faced the speedway. Hux could see a single flashing speeder light reflected in the transparisteel. The senator would be arriving soon. Most of the staff bustle around them had settled into an anxious hum.

“What’s your name?”

“Ben,” said the boy very quickly, and then, “ _wait—_ ”

“Shut up, Ben,” said Hux, turning back to face the stage. He had no intention of leaving, or admitting that _Ben_ was right about his trespassing.

The arena was beginning to fill in. Press from at least twenty different worlds was packed together on a riser toward the back, and more were in the process of checking in. Hux crossed his arms over his chest and affected a nonchalant stance. He’d already blown his cover to some extent but he wasn’t going to give up his prize spot this close to Senator Organa’s entrance. It would be over soon enough and he could get back to his post and his real job. He could practically feel the fake Jedi fuming behind him.

Hux almost screamed when a huge hand clamped down on his shoulder and spun him around.

Ben stood very close to him, and he was glaring, breathing hard. His grip was like a vise. His other hand cupped Hux’s face and Hux shrank back.

“You—you _took_ it,” Ben said quietly, like he was sounding out the words in a different language. “From one of the guardsmen. You—” his brow scrunched up and his nose wrinkled. “ _You—_ ”

Hux rolled his eyes, having forgotten to be afraid, and shoved him away. Ben stumbled back. If this was the worst thing the New Republic had to throw at him then their regime was bound to meet a swift end, and shortly.

“You let him _fuck you_ —” Ben accused, spittle flying. His mouth fell open and he reached for Hux again. “Kark, that’s filthy—”

Hux knocked his hand away. He tugged the pin off his lapel and threw it at Ben’s feet. His cheeks felt hot and suddenly he was very nauseous. No intel was worth this sort of humiliation. Strictly speaking trackers could remain in the audience at these sorts of affairs. But Hux didn’t do things by half, and it was far too easy to pick guardsmen out in barroom crowds. The stupid haircuts, bad eyewear, and leisure vests were a dead giveaway. He’d gone above and beyond for his cause, that was his way.

“Shut up,” he spat. He righted his jacket where Ben’s grip had left it rumpled.

“Are you a spy or a whore?” Ben asked him, openly staring.

Hux fought the urge to curl in on himself defensively. “Which answer gets me out of here without an armed escort?” His eyes fell to Ben’s prop lightsaber.

“Depends.” Ben regarded him with a curious expression, abruptly confident.

“I’m not a spy.”

Before Ben could answer the windows filled with flashing lights. “Shit, here.” He reached out and Hux’s discarded pin floated—karking _floated_ — off the ground into his palm. Ben affixed it to his chest with big, clumsy fingers. Hux breathed out shallowly while Ben fiddled with his lapel, his head bent close enough that Hux could smell his unwashed hair.

“Well not-a-spy,” Ben said, stepping back, “you better keep this on if you want to live to fuck another day.”

Hux gaped.

“Stay over there and keep your head down,” Ben admonished him, pointing toward the table full of drinks and snacks that Hux had actually helped set up. Ben went to stand just beside the entry point and Hux, feeling cowed and fairly foolish, took his advice.

Senator Organa arrived amidst a whirlwind of activity. First the gaurdsmen appeared in their dark suits and earpieces, then a gaggle of aides and traveling press, and finally, the senator. Hux tried not to stare. She greeted a small assembly waiting with Ben, and even the fake Jedi got a long embrace. Hux narrowed his eyes and strained to hear even a snippet of conversation. He could only catch a barely audible “are you sure?” to which Ben nodded curtly. Hux busied himself by rearranging the amenities. He stacked the protein bars neatly atop one another to keep from fidgeting, or worse, pacing.

He had, in his time, found himself face to face with decorated Imperial generals, and rising First Order officers under whom he might one day serve. As a very small child he had even been in the presence of the Emperor, a tiny figure in grey at his father’s side. But somehow he was unprepared to share a room with Senator Organa, hero of the Rebellion, a princess, and the next likely Chancellor of the New Republic. His father would strike him if he knew how fast Hux’s heart was racing. This woman was—the very _antithesis_ of everything he stood for. Her social welfare programs alone were cause for alarm if you had any sense of fiscal responsibility, not to mention the dynastic nonsense...Hux shook himself. He hadn’t even turned on his holocamera yet. He was making a spectacular failure of himself, and when he fumbled at his pocket for the tiny camera he found that Ben was looking directly at him.

Kark it all.

It wasn’t until Senator Organa was on stage and addressing the crowd that Hux realized he was holding his breath.

“It’s always like this,” said Ben from just beside him.

“Shouldn't you be watching?”

Ben shrugged. He had very broad shoulders. “Seen it all before.”

“You’re very jaded for a performer.”

“Ugh,” Ben groaned. He wiped a hand over his long, strange face. “Do you wanna go somewhere?”

“Are they even letting people out? Don’t you have to perform—we can’t just—”

Ben tapped at an actual pin, a porcelain circle half-gold, half-orange, stuck to his tunic. “This’ll get us anywhere.”

Hux raised an eyebrow. “Uh. Ohh-kay _._ ”

“Okay.”

“Fine.” Hux nodded. The crowd cheered.

“We have to go. She’s almost done.” Ben grabbed his arm, and before Hux could protest Ben had tugged him past a pair of burly uniformed guardsmen, one of whom nodded in a way that looked suspiciously friendly to Hux, and out into the network of hallways that crisscrossed the bowels of the arena.

“Where are we going?”

“I dunno, didn’t you see anywhere good on the walk-through?”

 _“_ The _what_?”

“Crap, I forgot you’re a phony.” Ben dropped his hand and started trying doors as they ran past them. Hux watched in dismay until one gave and Ben pulled them into a lounge of sorts. There were couches at least. And a vending machine with glowing Aurebesh letters declaring COLD DRINKS.

Hux rubbed at his hand. Ben had rather crushed his fingers together in his haste to get away.

“What’s wrong with you?” He felt especially testy, his mission essentially ruined, and now he’d been kidnapped by a disconcerting, malcontent actor. He wished for his blaster, or the gaurdsman he’d duped to come save him. Hux knew, watching Ben angrily shake the vending machine when it refused his scratched up looking credit chip, that he was no match for the odd boy or his surprisingly fit arms. “What is _wrong with you?”_ he said, louder this time, maybe bordering on shrill.

Ben extracted a can of soda and opened it with a pop. He drank half before he responded, breathing harshly.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Hux repeated. He sat down primly on one of the couches and folded his hands in his lap. “There’s very clearly something wrong with you. You can tell me or we can go back to whatever it is you ran away from.”

“I can’t stand this shit,” Ben said, coming to sit heavily beside him, his knees spread out in an absurd sprawl. “Want some?” He offered his soda.

“Get me my own.”

Ben stared at him. Then he stood and got Hux his own. Then he returned to the couch and proceeded to sulk. He was, and this was Hux’s expert opinion, rather nice-looking despite his strange face and poor attitude.

“If it makes you feel any better, she’s going to win,” he said. He took a sip from his can. “Everyone says so, so you certainly don’t have to worry about being out of a job when this is all over.”

“Out of a—”

“You’re an actor, right? One of those New Republic publicity stunts.”

“I levitated your pin.”

“A neat trick,” Hux scoffed.

“Wow, you’re stupid. Haven’t you ever seen a Jedi before?”

“In New Republic publicity stunts.”

Ben adjusted himself on the couch with a frustrated growl. He set his soda down beside his foot and when he looked back up his full mouth had become a consternated line, and his brow was furrowed. “Hold still,” he said, before he put both of his huge hands on Hux’s shoulders, his thumbs dipping into Hux's collarbones beneath his blazer. He squeezed lightly.

Hux fought the urge to scoot back and away from him. But he wasn’t going to let some second-rate New Republican charlatan intimidate him. Quite the opposite, in fact. He lifted his chin and regarded Ben coldly. “What is this?”

Ben closed his eyes. He inhaled through his nose as his mouth fell open a little, as though he intended to meditate. Hux found that he liked the look of that mouth, of the pink slip of tongue he could see past the white line of Ben’s teeth. His canines were slightly more pronounced than the rest of his front teeth, sharper looking than they ought to be, and they seemed unbearably erotic to Hux in that moment. He wondered what Ben’s discomfiting teeth might feel like along his neck, his thighs. He was barely conscious of it, the way his attraction to Ben flitted, moth-like, through his thoughts.

Ben coughed, sputtered. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop thinking about me. Like that.”

“Like what?” Hux asked, annoyed. He hadn’t.... _Oh_.

“You _are_ a slut,” Ben said. His eyes sparkled and he tilted his head to side, considering Hux in a way that Hux found altogether unpleasant but still titillating. “No wonder they sent you. Your superiors. They’re probably well aware of your...powers of persuasion.”

“You’re awful.” Hux did try to shake him off then, but Ben dug his thumbs in and stilled him.

“What would you do for a bit of real intel? None of this lousy fake spying you do. Something real.”

“What would I—there’s _nothing_ you could possibly tell me that we don’t already know. We have the finest intelligence officers in the Galaxy. Impeccably trained in the latest technological advancements. Nothing slips through our fingers, rest assured, least of all something a lowly— _actor_ would know.”

“What if,” Ben lowered his voice as though they weren’t all alone in dingy little lounge, “what if I told you I was her son.”

“Whose son?”

“For Forcesake, _Organa’s_ son. Then what would you do?”

“What would I—” Hux’s brain hurried to catch up with Ben’s words. “ _Senator_ Organa?”

“Kriff, don’t make me spell it out.” A little crease formed between Ben’s eyebrows and he tossed his hair back, an odd mix of prideful and seemingly unsure.

“Well,” Hux said, processing this new, fascinating information with haste and wondering ashamedly where his messenger bag had gone and with it the handy container of lube he had carried on-world. “One might do quite a lot for real intel, as you say.”

“One meaning you.”

Hux rolled his eyes. Ben _Organa,_ if that was his name, also happened to be insufferable. “Yes. Let’s have it then.” He crossed his arms over his chest, while Ben maintained his vise-like grip on Hux’s shoulders.

Ben tugged his fat lower lip between his horrible, alluring teeth. “The polls are wrong. You can tell them that. She can sense it, and so can I, but no one will say anything. She certainly won’t. It isn’t nearly as sewn up as it seems.”

“Jedi mumbo-jumbo doesn’t count.”

“It’s not mumbo—Listen, she’s not going to win. She’ll go kicking and screaming, but she knows it as well as I do, as well as anyone with the Force would. Her brother knows.”

“So why run?”

With a great, heaving sigh Ben shook his head. “Hope.”

“That’s…insane.”

“Runs in the family.”

“I can’t do anything with this.”

Ben released him. “That’s fine. I didn’t actually expect you to blow me or anything. Just bored I guess.”

“ _Bored_?” Hux sputtered, suddenly wholly affronted by Ben’s resignation. “How could you possibly be bored? You get to travel! To see so many new worlds. Your mother is—”

“Powerful? Brave? Busy.”

“Cry me a river, I couldn’t feel sorry for you if I tried. Playing at being a Jedi and tugging strange boys into empty rooms. Skulking around like you’re untouchable.”

“I am,” Ben insisted. “You won’t touch me.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“But it’s true.”

Hux breathed out slowly through clenched teeth. Ben irked him. Intrigued him. Maybe irked him more though. “How’s this: give me something I can use, even something small, and you can have a kiss. I’m going to assume you know how to kiss.”

“I do.”

“Good.”

“There’s dissension,” Ben said slowly, “in the upper echelons of the campaign. In her inner circle. Her husband, my father,” said with derision, “thinks our, _her_ , focus should be on the Core Worlds even though she should win them handily. No one agrees with him. It’s causing problems. _He_ causes—problems all the time.”

Hux considered this. It would do. “Come here,” he said. Ben leaned forward. “Close your eyes.” Hux checked to make sure he had, and then he closed his own and pressed his mouth to Ben’s with a hint of melancholy. He was, in some ways, tired of trading favors.

Ben’s mouth was as soft as it looked, slightly wet from where he’d worried at it, and his lips parted when Hux nudged gently at them with his tongue. Ben let him into his mouth, and for a moment Hux relished the feel of Ben’s sharp teeth, and Ben’s taste, which was unobtrusive and alluring. He coaxed Ben into kissing back with more fervor when he made an inadvertent little sound, a sigh or gasp, cut off by their joined mouths. It became apparent very quickly that this was a terrible mistake, but Ben’s hands were on him before he could pull away, one in his hair and the other wrapped around his waist, a massive span of fingers across his midsection, like a wampa paw.

And he knew, with absolute certainty, that it was time to push Ben away. But it had been so long since he’d done something purely because he desired it.

“I want to touch you,” Ben said, sloppily against his mouth, panting. “Let me touch you.” He tugged at Hux’s collar and it appeared to undo itself for him, baring Hux’s throat to be had. The rest of his shirt buttons followed.

“What if someone comes in?”

“No one will.” Ben’s mouth was on his throat, his teeth felt just as good as Hux thought they might.

He took a desperate gulp of air.

“How do you—how can you be sure?” His hands wove their way to Ben’s soft, ridiculously soft, thick hair, and he clutched at him. “How do you know?” He sounded far breathier than he usually did, out of control of himself.

“The Force,” Ben said. He nipped at Hux’s ear then found his mouth again, his hands sliding up under Hux’s dress shirt, under his regulation tank, skimming up his sides until his palms were flat, warm and huge, on Hux’s back, splayed across his shoulder blades.

Hux wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t, because he was too busy being kissed by Senator Organa’s son in an empty staff lounge. The Senator would be gone by now. It was unlikely he would be missed but he wondered fleetingly if Ben would be, if there was somewhere Ben ought to be right now, instead of attempting to maul him with his mouth and fangs.

“You’re not terribly loyal,” Hux said, when Ben pulled away to get at his neck again.

“I want her to lose,” Ben muttered. It was vindictive and dark, vicious. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Stars, that’s—”

“Fucked up?” Ben went for the top of his trousers. “It is fucked up. I want to see her try. And fail. And fail spectacularly.”

Hux was, he realized, incredibly turned on. Moreso with this admission. “You’re fucked up.”

“I know,” Ben said, then he clamored off the couch and crouched between Hux’s parted thighs. “Let me suck you.”

“Okay— _kriff_ —okay, Ben Organa whoever you are.”

Ben bit his thigh and Hux swore. Ben took him into his mouth, peered up at Hux from under his dark lashes, and set about giving Hux the more inexpert blowjob he’d ever received in his life but stars was it worth it to have the senator’s son on his knees for him. How it hadn’t crossed his mind before this moment, how he hadn’t considered the monumental value of having this stupid boy in his thrall, eluded him. How could he have missed how incredibly _powerful_ this would make him feel.

It was enough to make Hux’s eyes roll back with pleasure, and the sight of Ben’s red mouth, stretched around his erection, didn’t hurt at all. He grasped Ben’s hair and held on, his neck felt weak, unable to support his head. He was making— _noises_ , embarrassing ones, as Ben worked at him with his mouth and soon a hand. Hux finished with sudden and unexpected intensity, his whole body wracked with a massive shiver. He moaned weakly. 

Ben sat back on his haunches and smirked at him. There was a smear of semen at the corner of his mouth. Hux couldn’t catch his breath.

“I didn’t think—Jedi could do that sort of thing.”

“I’m not a Jedi. Not yet anyway.”

“Hm.” Hux felt uncomfortably blissed out.

“My turn,” Ben said. Then he climbed up onto the couch, and proceeded to jerk himself off onto Hux’s bared chest. Hux could only wetly mouth at his neck and grasp his big thighs where they bracketed his own. It was the single most obscene thing that had ever happened to him, and he had come here on a mission, which somehow made it even worse. Then Ben licked his own release off Hux’s skin and Hux was certain he had failed, been captured, and executed all in the space of the last hour.

“I’m never going to see you again, am I?” He was still partially undressed, his semi-hard cock sitting against his stomach.

“Would you want to?” Ben asked. He had sprawled out next to Hux, sweaty and sated.

Hux shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“My path is unclear,” Ben said. His voice had a mystic, seeking tone. “Yours is so apparent it’s blinding. You already know you’ll go far.”

“Yes,” Hux said softly. “I intend to.”

“It must be nice, knowing what’s expected of you and wanting that too.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“But you want the future you’ll have.” Ben sounded so sure. “I have a thousand divergent paths, each more uncertain and tumultuous then the next. If we meet again, I don’t know what side of your war I’ll be on.”

“My war. I like that.”

“I thought you might.”

“She’s gone now. You can come out of hiding. Go back to wherever you came from. I suppose you’ve given me enough to go back home, too.”

Ben dragged his hand through his unkempt hair. Hux watched his fingers snag on the long, tiny braid that poked out past his curls and tug on it thoughtfully. “Do you need a ride somewhere?” he asked.

“No. I have a shuttle.”

“Oh good.”

Hux got to the business of fixing himself. He felt so uncharacteristically languid that it was slow going. Ben watched him from behind drowsy eyelids. “Well,” he said, finishing the last of his shirt buttons. He was rumpled but would have suffer it.  “Well.”

“Be seeing you,” Ben said, making no move to right himself or leave.

“Right,” Hux said. He gave a sharp little nod. “See you.”

Ben watched him go, still sprawled out and so sad looking. Hux glanced back before he closed the door, and the room looked dimmer, like Hux had taken all of the light with him as he left.

Months later, when Organa did lose, he found himself thinking of Ben, wondering if he felt as pleased as he seemed to think he would. He watched the newsholo of Organa’s concession speech and Ben was nowhere to be found. She did lose at least three of the Core Worlds, just as Ben had predicted she would. Hux tried to be surprised, but he wasn’t. He was apparently the only one.

Well, him, the Senator, and _Ben_.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always greedily appreciated. Follow me on [tumblr](http://reserve.tumblr.com).


End file.
